The Blood On Our Hands
by Celestial Calamity
Summary: Slightly AU. When the Head of the Department of Mysteries disappears, Harry Potter is bent on bringing her back. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger uncover a baffling discovery that may have been a part of a conspiracy plot established nearly twelve years ago. DMHG
1. CH1

**Title**: The Blood On Our Hands

**Summary**: When the Head of the Department of Mysteries disappears, Harry Potter is bent on bringing her back. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger adds fuel to the fire only to unravel a cold-blooded conspiracy that makes an attempt on her life.

**A/N**: I was _extremely _disappointed with things ended in the Deathly Hallows. This is me attempting to write a different ending. :3 I managed to recover this account, and was under the pen name **Pureblood Society **when publishing this story.

**Dedications**: To** RageRunsStill** and **Princess Self-Respectra**—because Rage is an overall great person and even though she doesn't respond to my PMs, I love this girl because of her general awesomeness. To Selena, for being a loyal Beta Reader.

* * *

**The ∙ Blood ∙ On ∙ Our ∙ Hands **

_For centuries, the world has heard the oppressed, the downtrodden and the vulnerable cry out for their freedoms, for their rights and for a chance to emerge from the shadows of the tyranny and bloodshed that they had lived with. _

—**Ginny Brown Waite**

* * *

**O**f all the obnoxious things Rita Skeeter had ever done to ruin her good image, this had to be the absolute worst.

It started when people began whispering when she entered through one of the Ministry fireplaces. She didn't want to think about all the horrible things they were talking about. She was much better than that. Her day became stranger when Romilda Vane made a comment about her love life (or lack thereof) and from there Hermione thought it was a good idea to pick up the Daily Prophet.

She was Hermione Granger, the best friend of the saviour of the Wizarding World, and had the highest NEWT scores Hogwarts has seen in a century, and all it took was one stupid article to destroy what people thought of her? It was sickening how people put their faith in the Daily Prophet. If this was the Muggle World, she would sue the Daily Prophet for defamation of her character.

"You read the Daily Prophet this morning, didn't you?" Millicent Bulstrode walked into her office, her immaculate Ministry robe billowing from behind.

Hermione cracked a smile. Their friendship would and always be condemned in the eyes of the Wizarding World, but that fact alone strengthened it from day one — they had different upbringings, came from different families that had different cultural views of life. What mattered to them was that they shared the same principles and the same ambitions.

"I'm surprised with how much publicity the stupid article received. Didn't she print something identical to it in Fourth Year?" Millicent rolled her eyes. "Not only is Rita Skeeter a venomous cow, but she's going completely senile. Ha, that would make a good headline for the afternoon Daily Prophet."

And that's when inspiration struck.

* * *

"**W**hat do you mean she _disappeared_?"

Susan Bones flinched at the harsh tone. She knew that Harry had a close but platonic relationship with the Head of the Department of Mysteries — one of the youngest people to be appointed to Head to a Ministry division for two hundred years. Considering his past, it seemed like a cruel joke.

"We're not quite sure what happened, but we managed to procure some evidence at the crime of the scene. See for yourself, Potter."

Harry already knew what it was. It was _her _journal — it was still in mint condition (Preservation Charm?) and its trademark bejeweled cover and the cultural depictions of a raven drawn on the back brought back fond memories. It was hard to find something nondescript about the journal.

He could feel the item pulsing in his hands. She once told him about the layers upon layers of enchantments that protected it from being viewed by anyone else. Perhaps, the journal could lead him straight towards her . . . ?

It was wishful thinking. "When was she last seen?" Harry asked.

"Eye witnesses claim that she entered Hog's Head with a wiry bloke with spectacles," Susan Bones frowned slightly. "They all wondered why the saviour of the Wizarding World would deign to visit a dingy bar, of all the places."

"Funny how the last time I went to Hog's Head, it was during the War," he replied. He had a rogue Dark Wizard posing as him through the Polyjuice Potion.

A blonde-haired bloke sauntered into Hog's Head, clad in the standard Auror uniform and gave him his trademark smirk. "Potter, I thought we were partners. Weren't you going to tell me that you had an evil twin?"

"I don't have an evil twin," Harry said peevishly.

"He doesn't have an evil twin, Malfoy. Someone Polyjuiced as Potter and lured the Head into the bar and kidnapped our victim under everybody's noses," Susan interjected, a note of exasperation evident in her tone.

"That's a logical way of putting it, Bones. What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's her diary. I think it might lead us to her."

"You're telling me her diary is disguised as a Tracking Charm?" Malfoy questioned. When Malfoy first enrolled into the Auror program, the Head Auror Gawain Robards assigned him to Harry — mainly because his previous partner, Ron Weasley, sustained an injury that nearly handicapped him for a good part of the year. It was hell working with Malfoy, but at least they were an efficient team once they put aside their inconsequential rivalries. It put a strain on Harry's friendship with Ron — who was still disgruntled about being paired with Zacharias Smith, who was known for being a tosspot in their schooldays.

"Can't believe someone accurately impersonated you through the Polyjuice Potion," Malfoy sniggered. "The potion is tricky to make, and the fact that they sufficiently covered their tracks mean only a handful of people are quite capable of pulling an elaborate kidnapping without getting caught."

"You mean the Death Eaters are up to their old tricks again," Susan said peevishly. The contemptuous expression was to be expected, seeing that she lost her entire family to dastardly Death Eaters. "What do they want with her?"

"The Department of Mysteries contains all of the Ministry's guarded secrets. She's the Head of the freaking department, for crying out loud!" Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Couldn't it be more obvious?"

"The most important thing is to bring her back safe and in one piece, of course," Susan sounded determined. Harry never believed the shit about Hufflepuffs always doing the right honourable thing. They obviously never challenged Susan in the battlefield. Last month, she saved Malfoy's arse from an undesirable fate.

"Does that mean we could subject them to an arsenal of torture that would make my dear departed aunt Bella proud?"

Susan wrinkled her nose at the mention of the deceased Death Eater. "No," and she continued with a mischievous smile. "I was thinking of the Dementor's Kiss."

**E**venly arranged blonde curls bounced elegantly as she sat down at the table. She clenched her fists as she poured out her heart to her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini. People automatically were under the impression that he was as cold and unsympathetic as the next Slytherin, because of his trademark stoic expression. She'd known him for almost twenty years and out of those two, long decades — Blaise was a great listener, and was usually the person she confided in.

"Can you believe the cow?" Pansy Parkinson stammered out. People often called her the Ice Queen of Hogwarts, because of her apparent closeness with Draco. It was a common misconception to mistaken them as couple — they grew up with a refined upbringing and the same pureblood ideologies taught to them when they were just mere children at the tender age of three.

"Love makes people do strange things," was Blaise Zabini's only comment.

Pansy barked out a mirthless laugh. It sounded high and cold. "If anything, I would call it a scandalous tryst that could end with disastrous results. Besides, who would _fall in love with that old hag_? My father is more at ease in his degrading Azkaban cell then at enjoy his luxurious life at the Parkinson Manor!"

"Okay, it's obvious no one is going to sway your opinion of your mother any time soon," Daphne said. She sounded bored. "My mother is hosting a gathering of sorts at the old mansion next week. She wants all of you to come."

"I'm going to Luxembourg this following week," Pansy replied and smirked at Blaise. "Too bad you can't come, Blaise. Remember what happened last time?"

The last time Blaise set foot in Luxembourger soil, he managed to anger the Minister himself because he was under the impression Blaise defiled his precious daughter and banned him from the country. "It wasn't my fault that wretched Christianne sought after me. Besides, the girl was barely seventeen."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Luxembourg isn't the best place to visit. It's known for its rather lowly population of wizards and witches. I'd rather not go to a place outnumbered by Muggles and their ilk. It makes me feel Claus trophic."

Blaise gave her a hard look. "The word, Daphne, is _claustrophobic_. Shall I provide you with a definition as well? You're not the only one who's noticed that Draco has been picking up strange words from the people in his department."

Daphne harrumphed. "Whatever. Nobody told him to become an Auror. I'm telling you, his mother has him wrapped around her delicate finger."

"At least she doesn't mingle with other —" Pansy began ranting again. Simultaneously, Daphne and Blaise shot her a look of irritation.

"Where is Draco anyway? Theo I understand, because the poor boy has been overwhelmed with paperwork for the past few days. His department has been nursing a grudge against the Nott family for decades," Daphne prattled.

Pansy sighed. Everyone knew Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott were the golden couple of Hogwarts since Fourth Year. Nobody was surprised when they got married several months after the Battle of Hogwarts transpired. After all, Pansy was the one who gave them a nudge in the proper direction.

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Review? :3 Kudos to the person who can accurately guess who the Head of the Department of Mysteries is.


	2. CH2

**Title**: The Blood On Our Hands

**Summary**: When the Head of the Department of Mysteries disappears, Harry Potter is bent on bringing her back. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger adds fuel to the fire only to unravel a cold-blooded conspiracy that makes an attempt on her life.

**A/N**: FFN allows me to have up to four characters, Harry and Hermione happen to be two of the four characters I selected. I didn't think FFN would make Harry/Hermione the main pairing. I'm sorry if I mislead you guys in any way. Oh, and Daphne/Theo aren't really a power couple. Sorry if it sounded like that.

**Dedications: **To **levesques**—because she's a lovely person and sees the best in everyone despite my own imperfections and obvious blemishes. She is truly the embodiment of what a Hufflepuff is supposed to be. And to my awesome Beta Reader, **Naeryna**, who doesn't have a FFN account. I reccomend her asking her to proofread your stories. You can find her profile at Hawthorn and Vine.

* * *

******The ∙ Blood ∙ On ∙ Our ∙ Hands**

_I think if I've learned anything about friendship, it's to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don't walk away, don't be distracted, don't be too busy or tired, don't take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff_

******—Jon Katz**

* * *

**S**he was trapped.

Her wand had been taken away from her sometime during her capture. If she needed something, a House Elf would appear to take care of it. Whenever she had tried to reach for the door, she was hit by a magical force field that would send her flying backwards. She tried to weaken the spell with wandless magic, but her attempts were futile.

The task seemed impossible without her wand.

It was a complicated bit of magic — the warding. This meant that the person who cast the spell was a second generation Death Eater or had an unlimited supply of books pertaining to the Dark Arts. Her cell was furnished comfortably enough and was dimly lit by a small window that cast an eerie glow on her pale, almost ghost-like countenance. She sighed as she drank a glass of water provided by her captors. It only made sense that they wanted her alive. It was unlikely that they went through the trouble of kidnapping her only to kill her.

A shadow crept into the room. "Who is there?" she called out. The shadow stepped into the light. She didn't know him. He was of an average height with brown hair and eyes. His facial features were ordinary and his clothes were perfectly commonplace. He seemed like the sort of bloke who wouldn't be spared a second glance.

"I'm not here to exchange pleasantries, I'm afraid. I've observed your pathetic attempts at breaking free from your room but unfortunately for you, the wards here are impregnable. You cannot hope to break through the magical enchantments; give it up" he said with an oily smile. "If you keep trying, the consequences will not be pleasant."

She was going to be patient. She wasn't going to allow her frustration to get the better of her. If her journal was in safe hands, even in death, she would succeed in her quest. She gasped as it dawned on her then, that her kidnapping might have to do with the case she'd been pursuing outside of work.

"Who are you working for? It isn't possible for you to have orchestrated this entire kidnapping by yourself," she began coolly. "I know some important people. If you let me go, I'll ask the Wizengamot to truncate your sentence."

"I do not have the capability to release you, nor do I feel the slightest bit inclined to save you from your terrible fate," he spat coldly before he Disapparated.

She noted his Disapparition with no small amount of surprise. This meant that her prison didn't have an Anti-Disapparition Jinx in place. If she miraculously gained the possession of a wand, she could escape. By now, the entire Auror Office was probably out looking for her.

Feeling bored, she began to formulate a plan to get out of there.

* * *

**O**ut of all the children in the Weasley clan, Hermione felt Charlie could be someone she could connect with until he shacked up with Mandy Brocklehurst.

She remembered Mandy as the mousy albeit hardworking Ravenclaw. She used to hang around Padma Patil, while Hermione was stuck with her lackadaisical twin for as a fellow Housemate. Mandy had filled out quite nicely, developed a curvaceous frame and a smattering of freckles dotted across her cheek.

Molly seemed pleased with the recent change of events, if the delighted expression she had on her face was any indication.

"So, Mandy. Tell us how you met Charlie. You never really mentioned how it came about," Fleur asked. She was bouncing baby Victoire on her lap. At the tender age of three, Victoire was already beginning to resemble her beautiful mother. She had luscious blonde curls, cornflower blue eyes and smooth porcelain skin. It seemed like the dominant Weasley genes had skipped a generation for once.

Mandy smiled fondly. "Well, it was in the summer of '97 — my grandfather had passed away, and the funeral service was held in Budapest. My granddad worked for the Hungarian Ministry and his colleagues were invited to his wake, naturally. I was surprised to see Charlie among them. I met him shortly after the funeral service was over, and we started talking. My grandfather and I were very close; it broke my heart to see him die. Charlie somehow singlehandedly managed to keep my mind off of that . . ."

The twins were nudging each other with matching conspiratorial grins. Hermione had heard stories of Charlie being a notorious playboy during his time as a single. Ron would always say how his brother would switch girls during every mealtime, but she always thought it was an exaggeration. Mainly because he sounded admiring and jealous in parts — this was much before Lavender Brown came along and snatched him away.

_Where_ was Ron, anyway? Hermione frowned. Punctuality was not his strong suit. She was tired of keeping up with his dalliances. She wondered who it was now. It couldn't be Lavender Brown. Not again. He already tired of her years ago.

"Look at the time," Hermione said, looking at her plain Muggle watch. "It's time for me to head back to work. I've got some paperwork due tomorrow."

"You're leaving already?" Molly looked disappointed. Then again, in her eyes, she always thought Hermione as a second daughter.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but I have to go. I'll surely drop by this weekend. 'Bye!"

When she reached the office, Anthony Goldstein caught up with her. He was holding a copy of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet in his hands.

"I can't believe you would pull something like this," Anthony sounded proud. "I didn't think you had it in you. Skeeter is going to be utterly mad when she reads this."

That very morning, Rita Skeeter had published an awful article about Hermione. According to Skeeter, she was plotting to ruin Harry's relationship with Ginny — as if she fancied Harry in the first place. Wouldn't _she _be dating him if she did? To make matters worse, Skeeter tried to make her article sound legitimate by saying that she had a trustworthy source who had confided in her.

The thought of someone close to her betraying her secrets to a hack like Rita Skeeter made her feel nauseated. Her resolve to take the high road crumbled in the face of today's article, so, she met the editor of the Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe, demanding Rita Skeeter's resignation or she would ensure she ruined him. He had a counter-offer, print an article that would ruin Skeeter instead.

So, in the evening edition of the Daily Prophet, Hermione's article explained that Skeeter was merely intent on slandering her good image and had no real basis on facts. She also intimated that Skeeter was growing senile at her advanced age, because she already tried the same technique once before. The points she made hit home, despite the fact that Skeeter looked amazing even at the age of fifty two.

"I know she will blow her top," Hermione gave Goldstein a smile that sent fingers of dread down his spine. Millicent kept pestering Hermione to date someone like Anthony — he was a brilliant conversationalist, hardworking and he was attractive. His short attention span was a major turn off for Hermione, which indicated that he was most likely to stray. "I'll see you later then, Anthony." Hermione hurried off to find Millicent to share the joy of her triumph over Ms. Nosy Skeeter.

When she finally found Millicent, she stopped dead in her tracks. Hermione often forgot that once upon a time, Millicent was a Slytherin. And Millicent's fellow Slytherins didn't look upon too kindly at her lack of a magical heritage.

Millicent was chatting with Draco Malfoy, of all the people in the world. He constantly browbeat her when they were both at Hogwarts, and his overall foul personality didn't make him the most affable person.

She turned around to head back before he caught sight of her. Unfortunately, she seemed to have lost Lady Luck's flavour when she heard a familiar derisive voice calling out,

"Going somewhere, Granger?"

Hermione mentally called the speaker with every foul word she knew before turning around. She smiled sweetly, "Now Draco, why in the world would I want to avoid basking in your glorious presence?"

* * *

**H**er magical journal didn't have a Tracking Charm.

If it did, someone must have tampered with it.

"You'll find her," Ginny attempted to soothe him. It had been almost five years since they started dating. "It's only been three days. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Gee. Thanks for reminding me Ginny." He instantly felt bad for snapping at her like that.

Ginny recoiled from him. She shook her head as to shrug his remark off, "Remember, you're one of the best Aurors out there, Harry. You defeated Voldemort, didn't you?"

He didn't know how that was supposed to reassure him. "Ginny, you know how Death Eaters operate. They are vicious killing machines, who have no regard for human life. What if they kidnapped her because she's one of my friends?"

Ginny tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind an ear and shrugged, not knowing what to say. Harry ran his fingers through his hair frustrated, "Though the Death Eaters are predictable murdering idiots, they won't kill her. They're using her as a means for something."

Ginny gaped at him, "You almost sound like a Slytherin. You've been hanging around Malfoy too much. I still don't know why you would ever befriend him, let alone, allow him to get so close to you." Ginny loathed his blond companion as much as the next Weasley, but tolerated him for his sake. He massaged his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. He really didn't get into an argument with Ginny about his relationship with Draco again, not now.

He was saved from having to reply when Ron entered the kitchen, with Marietta Edgecombe clinging to his arm like a barnacle. "I'm heard about what happened, mate. Are you alright?"

Harry sighed. "I'm fine. Everybody has been asking me how I am feeling for the past week. People don't seem to realize that I'm not the only person she was friends with. I heard Neville's taking it hard."

Not wanting to be left out, Marietta edged in, "We used to be in the same House. Ravenclaw, remember?"

"Oh, yes. How _could_ I forget? You used to bully her and treat her like pond scum," Harry almost snarled angrily. "You shouldn't even been speaking her name, you shallow little tart—"

"Harry!" Ron scolded. "Marietta's changed. Remember?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

He didn't know what possessed him to accuse Marietta of being a tart. He was stressed, one of his best friends had fallen off the face of the earth and he could barely keep his emotions in check. Marietta's sickening sweetness irritated him.

"You know, St. Mungo's did an excellent job removing those boils," Ginny snidely remarked. Marietta's expression of guilt transformed to glowering. It was common knowledge in the Weasley household that Ginny hated Marietta, even more than she did Lavender Brown.

"Do I detect jealousy in your tone?" Edgecombe sneered.

Ginny snorted, "No, you're hallucinating. And why would _I_ be jealous of _you_? After that stunt you pulled with Dumbledore's Army, I'm surprised you still have friends. Isn't that why you're dating Ron? To start over _with_ a clean slate?"

Before Marietta could escalate the situation to an all-out brawl, Ron dragged his girlfriend out of the kitchen. Ginny sighed. "I liked Lavender better than Marietta, and that's saying something considering how much I loathe Lavender."

During the Final Battle, everyone automatically assumed that Ron and Hermione would get together, get married and have children when they shared their kiss. Nobody expected Ron to share a drunken snog with Lavender Brown in the Leaky Cauldron during the celebration that would mark a new era.

"Well, I should be off. Malfoy will be expecting me," Harry pecked Ginny on the cheek before he Disapparated.

* * *

Reviews will be greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism will be much heeded and flames will be used to roast marshmallows. :)


	3. CH3

**Title**: The Blood On Our Hands

**Summary**: When the Head of the Department of Mysteries disappears, Harry Potter is bent on bringing her back. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger adds fuel to the fire only to unravel a cold-blooded conspiracy that makes an attempt on her life.

**A/N**: Sorry it took so long to update. I hope this chapter makes up for it. :D

* * *

******The ∙ Blood ∙ On ∙ Our ∙ Hands**

_Throughout life people will make you mad, disrespect you and treat you bad. Let God deal with the things they do, cause hate in your heart will consume you too._

_******—Will Smith**_

* * *

"**N**ow Draco, why in the world would I want to avoid basking in your glorious presence?" Hermione smiled sweetly.

Millicent chortled at Hermione's comment. Malfoy glared at Millicent, but his glare did nothing to abate her giggles. In fact, it fueled it. The last time Hermione and Draco had seen each other was last year. She had hosted last year's Christmas Party and Harry thought it was a brilliant idea to bring Malfoy along, who at his snarky best, had belittled her to the point where she hexed him badly enough to land him in St. Mungo's for a few days.

"You seem to be fond of running in the opposite direction whenever you see me," Malfoy pointed out with amusement.

"I'm just pulling an _Isobel_. Isn't that what people at work are doing these days?" Hermione nonchalantly replied. She couldn't help needling him further. "You know, the only reason you were even accepted into the Auror program was so that Kingsley could keep his eye on you. But I must congratulate you on becoming the first Auror to bear a Dark Mark on his arm."

She saw anger flash across his face as her barbs hit home. "What's the matter, Granger? Are you crabby that Potter is not responding to your advances?" Malfoy countered with false pity. "I can't imagine what you're feeling right now. It must be terrible, being chosen over your ex-boyfriend's sister. I'm not shocked though. Even Potter wouldn't date you with that _thing_ on your head. If you're nice to me, I might introduce you to a few acquaintances of mine that aren't very particular and would welcome your advances."

Hermione felt her blood boil. How dare the cocky bastard imply that she was desperate? Her romantic relationship with Ron was nonexistent at best, and the only thing they shared was a quick passionate kiss in the Chamber of Secrets. Besides, during that kiss, Hermione concluded that he was merely projecting his yearlong bottled sexual frustration and anxiety from the Horcrux Hunt.

"Draco, I think that's enough," Millicent declared irritated by the childishness of her friends. "Hermione, we have a meeting to get to. Montague wants to brief us about our new assignment. Draco, I'll see you around." Millicent grabbed a fuming Hermione by the arm and dragged her off before she could hex Draco into hospital again.

"Why do you let Draco get to you every time you two meet? Not that you're entirely innocent of being provocative yourself," Millicent asked exasperatedly. "I know he can be a bastard at times, but he only does that to get a rise out of people."

"_Bastard_? Millicent, you're being too kind! He is just like all the Pureblood snobs. They are egotistic buggers with no regard for anyone but themselves," Hermione said seething at Malfoy's audacity. How dare he think she was sexually frustrated?

"He's not like that anymore, Hermione," Millicent sighed, a note of pique evident in her tone. "He changed, but how _does _that Muggle saying go? Old habits die hard?'

Hermione decided to change the topic of the conversation. "I think we should be heading to the department. Did he say what the new assignment is about?"

Millicent was grateful that Hermione changed the subject. "Yes, let's do. And no, he didn't let on about the assignment."

They arrived at Montague's office to find him harried and flustered. Hermione immediately went on alert. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She secretly dreaded the answer. "Ah, good. You're here. Please take a seat." Montague paused before continuing, "There have been multiple assaults at a Wizarding neighbourhood."

"Has the Auror Office been notified?" Millicent asked worriedly. Violent crimes had become infrequent with the passing of Lord Voldemort. Fugitive Death Eaters were more likely to keep to themselves than orchestrate attacks.

"These attacks don't fall under Auror jurisdiction because there was no Dark magic involved. The casualties reported were caused by werewolves. These reports were confirmed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Montague had a grave look on his face.

"Werewolves?" Hermione blanched. Even Millicent paled at the mention of werewolves. Some of them were captured by the Werewolf Capture Unit shortly after the Second Wizarding War, but a good majority of them — Fenrir Greyback's pack, to be precise — disappeared into the wild, never to be seen again

"Greyback up to his old tricks, no doubt. Just make sure not a word of this gets out. We don't want to have mass hysteria to deal with along with this mess. Are we clear?"

* * *

**W**hen Draco was still an impressionable young boy, he always thought he would lead a wonderful life — he would follow in his father's footsteps to become an influential business tycoon, have a witch who epitomised the 3Bs, beauty, brains and breeding, hanging off his arm. Together they would procreate miniature Malfoys to run around Malfoy Manor to quell the mausoleum-like atmosphere that pervaded it. He had always wished he had had a sibling or two.

He shook his head as a humorless smile graced his lips, thinking of best laid plans and of mice and men. He never thought the Dark Lord would be resurrected to his former power and form. Sure, he had been every bit the supremacist his forefathers were, but his kind of torture never exceeded beyond beleaguering Mudbloods like Granger with cruel words and baiting her best friends, Potter and Weasley.

After the Final Battle, nobody wanted to be associated with the Malfoy family anymore — no amount of wealth and connections could save them from their impending lifelong incarceration in Azkaban until Potter himself vouched for them in their trial. The mortifying Transfiguration incident in Fourth Year was nothing compared to the embarrassment he had felt during the trial even though his arse was saved from rotting in a dingy Azkaban cell for life.

His mother coerced him into applying for the Auror training program; she'd hoped that Draco being an Auror would bring a measure of respectability to their family, considering that their reputation post-war was as reparable as a fine bone china cup which had been Reducto'd. Much to Narcissa's relief, he managed to procure enough Outstandings and Exceeding Expectations to qualify himself for the program.

To say that Draco was appalled when the Head of the Auror Division, Gawain Robards, assigned him to Scarhead of all the people, would've been an understatement. What was even more astonishing was that they were an effective team when it came down to pursing Dark Wizards and throwing their dastardly behinds into prison. Just last month, they had successfully located a makeshift Death Eater headquarters and caught three Death Eaters. Unfortunately, the ones they were after, Rookwood, Yaxley and the Lestranges, Disapparated during the skirmish.

He was startled out of his reverie by a tentative voice. "Draco?"

He looked up and couldn't place his caller. Then it hit him, Sullivan Fawley, his date for the evening. Susan Bones had suggested he pursue the girl nearly a month ago. Draco hadn't dated in a while, not since he'd chucked Isobel McDougal for her best friend. That had been nearly three weeks ago. He didn't even blink an eye at the fact that Sullivan was a Hufflepuff — she had a squeaky clean image, being seen with her would maybe redeem his reputation and it helped that she was somewhat attractive. He stood, straightened his dress robes, summoned his most charming smile and offered Sullivan his arm, "Shall we?"

After an excruciating half hour into dinner, Draco mentally noted to send dear old Susan a howler. Bones had forgotten to warn him that Fawley had the personality of a cardboard cutout.

She seemed completely oblivious to his attempts at starting a discussion. In fact, his attempts were met with monosyllabic answers and flirtatious smiles. She looked like she was content in picking away at her food rather than make conversation with her date. It was utterly infuriating.

In a last ditch effort to salvage what was left of the evening, he brought up the person who had set them up, "Susan Bones suggested I take you out on a date. How long have you known her?" Fawley beamed, "Did she? That's so sweet of Susie. I've known her since our time at Hogwarts." Draco gaped; it was the longest she'd ever spoken all night. He gave up; he didn't want to spend time with a person who was as loquacious as an Unspeakable boasting about his work.

"You know what? I don't think this is going to work after all. You've barely spoken to me all night, and quite frankly, I'd rather talk to a wall." Draco drew his coin-pouch and paid for dinner before he got up to exit the restaurant, leaving his date spluttering at his brutal honesty.

This was why Draco disliked going on pre-arranged dates. It would mean that he would have to go in blind, with no idea as to who the person was or what they were like. Isobel McDougal was a notable exception. Draco mentally made note to never date anyone from his workplace ever again. The spillover from the breakup was messy, tiring and inconvenient. He grimaced when he thought of how childish Isobel was; she evaded him whenever she saw him at their workplace. He always caught glimpses of her appendages or her robes as she disappeared around corners or into doorways to avoid any awkward encounters. Isobel's constant flight of retreat around him was a source of immense amusement to his colleagues. In fact, they'd pretend to dive out of sight whenever they he approached them.

Draco bumped into somebody as he walked toward the nearest Disapparating spot. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you… Astoria?" "Thank Merlin I found you, Draco" exclaimed Astoria Greengrass. She was in a right state, agitated and nervy, fearful almost. It was almost as if she were being chased by the hounds of hell. It was definitely a change from her despondency, an expression she'd been donning for the past year or so. When he'd asked Daphne about it, she had remained mum and hadn't divulged any details regarding her sister's personal life. Their closeness hadn't mattered; Daphne remained fiercely loyal to her sister and her family.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked alarmed, taking in her dishevelment.

"My parents want to arrange a marriage between us," Astoria blurted, her voice thick with tears. "I thought you deserved to know, I mean, it does affect your future."

Draco could only open and close his mouth wordlessly, in an excellent imitation of a fish, his head still playing catch up with the information that had been lobbed at him.

"I'm only twenty three, I'm too young to marry," he protested faintly. "They can't get us married off without our consent."

"Do you honestly believe they're going to pay any attention to what we have to say?!" Astoria laughed hysterically. "I'm twenty one, and all I want is to pursue my ambitions. I do not want to marry my sister's best friend just so I could be his broodmare!"

Draco's pride was stung by her vehement denial, "Are you sure it would be _that _terrible to marry someone like me? I'm a seven time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile and I'm at the top of the Wizarding World's Most Eligible Wizard list."

She gave him a withering look. "Being married to you would make me miserable, without a doubt."

He hurried to clarify, "Of course, I was not implying that I wanted to marry you."

Draco sensed that there might be other reasons for Astoria's overblown reaction. Either she was one of those queer witches who weren't interested in wizards, or she had a clandestine relationship.

"Are you attracted to women perchance?" he demanded. "No girl has ever turned down a chance to be with me."

Astoria spluttered indignantly, "How _dare _you —"

"Who are you seeing, then?" he asked. She purposely avoided his gaze, wringing her hands in silence. Draco guessed he must be unsuitable to have her hand in marriage lest she be disowned and estranged from her family members.

"Fine. I won't push you to tell me," Draco replied absentmindedly, thinking of ways to thwart the Greengrasses. If they contacted his father, he might as well give up. With the right amount of persuasion, he could convince his mother this would be a bad idea. His father, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He could encourage Draco to marry into the Greengrass family — they were an elite pureblood family who had been smart enough to not to get involved with the Dark Lord. It would help the Malfoys get a foot in with the magical society again.

"First off, we need to make sure your parents don't contact mine. Otherwise, there will be nothing we can do. I'll convince my parents to take off to one of their remote vacation houses, one which isn't connected to the Floo network. I'll even intercept all their owls," Draco began calmly and continued with a charismatic smile. "Is there any way you could delay your parents from approaching mine with the alliance?"

Astoria said with a determined look, "I could ask Daphne to help me. My parents have always indulged her; I'm sure she could stir up some trouble and get off lightly. Thank you, Draco. I'm glad you're against this foolishness." She squeezed his hand in gratitude before taking off. Draco only hoped the charming bloke who had swept her off her feet was a pureblood, or else all hell would break loose.

* * *

**N**arcissa Malfoy had invited Harry to tea that evening. It would have been impolite to decline the invitation. The woman had saved his arse, after all. She was the only Malfoy he could tolerate apart from Draco.

Harry was shown into the Drawing Room by a House Elf and was surprised to see that Narcissa had company. Pansy Parkinson, the Ice Queen of Slytherin, gave him a moue of distaste when she caught sight of him.

Harry paid no mind to Pansy's displeasure. "You know, you'll regret frowning at me when you get premature wrinkles before you hit thirty," he said with a mocking smile.

"Even if I did, which is nigh impossible, there are potions to take care of any facial imperfections I would develop in the future," she retorted. "Why are you here? Don't you have to be somewhere else? Maybe with a freckled git, his sister and a bushy haired chipmunk?"

There was a reason why everyone called her Pug-Face Parkinson. It was not that the girl fell short of being good looking, it was just that she was so very argumentative that she'd been given the nickname Pugnacious Parkinson. It wasn't long before the nickname spread around during their Fourth Year, and some had remarked that she was like a dog with a bone whenever she had had to prove a point. Unfortunately for her, people took the comment to be about her visage.

Harry ignored her comments about his friends and girlfriend, knowing it would only incite her. "Actually, Mrs. Malfoy invited me over for tea, not that it is any of you r business." He gave her a patronizing look, "And why are you here, Parkinson? Draco's out on a date. I thought you'd be there to torment his newest flame."

"Harry! How nice of you to drop by, dear." Harry and Pansy drew back their verbal arsenal; they liked and respected Narcissa too much to fight pettily in front of her. "Draco should've been home by now. I swear that boy doesn't tell me a thing. He usually comes straight home after work," Narcissa pecked him on his cheek and took a seat. "Perhaps he caught up with one of his friends today."

"He's on a date, apparently. You'd have to ask Potter if you wanted details," Pansy said tiredly. "It appears that I've overstayed my welcome. I'll be heading over to Daphne's. Please tell him that I came by."

Malfoy Apparated into the Drawing Room several minutes later. He looked drawn and frowned when he noticed Harry. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Narcissa interjected, "Draco, where are your manners? I invited him to tea."

Draco smirked, "I apologize if I offended your sensibilities, Potter. Now if you'll excuse us Mother, Harry and I have things to discuss." "I could help," Mrs. Malfoy offered, "I still have contacts in the Wizarding society who haven't forsaken us because of our previous unfortunate associations."

Harry smacked his forehead, "Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Your mother would make an excellent interrogator/informer." He turned to Narcissa, "Mrs. Malfoy, it would be of tremendous help if you could glean some information about Luna's kidnapping." Narcissa cheeks were tinted pink at Harry's effusiveness, "I'll see what I can do."

"Perfect," Malfoy replied. "Thank you, Mother. I thought we could raid the homes of the escaped Death Eaters, the ones who weren't convicted."

Harry sat up straighter. "Do you have a list of names of the possible suspects?"

"What if the person is not even a Death Eater? What if it's just some spiteful ex-Slytherin who wants to emulate the Dark Lord's ways? The girl did play a significant role in the Second Wizarding War after all," offered Narcissa.

"Do you think it might be one of your Slytherin contemporaries, Malfoy?"

Malfoy glowered. "Don't even think about it, Potter. Blaise has moved on and Theo was never the type to become a Death Eater. Daphne has a delicate way of thinking; Millicent has never been interested in pureblood politics. And Pansy couldn't care less about Luna Lovegood!"

"Fine, I'll trust your judgment on this one," Harry reluctantly conceded. He didn't want to argue with his partner, he'd been constantly on edge ever since Luna had been kidnapped.

Malfoy shrugged indifferently. "I don't care if you trust me or not, Potter because I am completely certain my friends and I have grown up, and we have had enough of pureblood politics for a lifetime."

Harry believed him and was abashed to have doubted him. Malfoy had shown a considerable amount of maturity for the past five years, except for the occasional barb at Ron anytime the two were within five feet of each other.

"Okay, we should start our raids with a few Death Eater households that have remained unoccupied for too long. How about we try the Lestrange Manor for our first raid?" Draco suggested.

Harry froze. "Lestrange Manor? Malfoy, are you out of your ever-loving mind? It took a team of Curse Breakers to take down all the magical enchantments surrounded the place. And when they finally did, they had faced another set of magical enchantments unwittingly and nearly got themselves killed! Does any of this ring a bell?"

"Didn't I tell you I figured out what the second set of enchantments was? Those were Blood Wards. They can only be deactivated by a relative, and in this case, it would be me. If anyone else outside the family tries to tamper with it, they would be in for an unpleasant surprise, which we've already established," Malfoy drawled.

Harry was furious now. He couldn't believe the annoying blonde ferret would withhold something as important as that — and he was an Auror, for Godric's sake! "How can you be so blithe about the lives of our colleagues? And why didn't you inform the Curse Breakers, more importantly, the Ministry about this? You could be suspended for withholding information! Hell, I'm inclined to drag you to the Chief's office myself!"

"I asked him not to go to your boss or the Ministry, Harry" Narcissa said defensively. "You already know how "_highly_" they regard us and I didn't want Draco informing them only to be treated with suspicion. He has been..."

"Mother, that's enough. I'm sure Harry doesn't want to hear about our trivial issues," Draco said chidingly. He turned to Harry, "I'm not about to get my arse fried or worse, killed. Unlike you, I do not lack self-preservation and jump headfirst into battle."

"I'm contacting Kingsley," Harry said. "And I'm taking you along with me. The Lestrange Manor is probably housing Dark Artefacts. I'll burn it down with Fiendfyre myself if I have to."

"Now, Potter. Before you go burning down the house of the world's most notable Death Eater, at least have a plan. You'll end up getting yourself killed at this rate," Malfoy advised. He valued his life, and had no interest in going on a suicide mission anytime soon. "Although I am impressed by how freakishly resourceful you are, considering how prone you are to getting involved in life threatening situations."

"If I die, you die. We're going to do this together, whether you like it or not. I don't give a damn even if it goes against your cowardly principles," Harry griped.

"In my world, cowardice is just another term for self-preservation" Draco remarked cheekily.

"Oh, go bugger yourself, Malfoy."

* * *

"**RECENT ATTACK BY WEREWOLVES COULD LEAD TO THIRD WIZARDING WAR!"**

The headline screamed from the front page of The Daily Prophet. Variations of the same headline were found in every major newspaper in Europe.

"Merlin's ballocks!" The angry roar was heard throughout the second level of the Ministry. Montague whirled around to face his cringing sub-ordinates, "How in the seven bloody hells did this get out? And what part of "contain the reports" did you not comprehend?"

"It's just Rita Skeeter's ridiculous libel. A few werewolves go rouge and they have the beginnings of the Third Wizarding War. People are smart enough not to believe all that they read. She is just getting back at Hermione for calling her "senile"" Millicent binned the morning edition of the Daily Prophet to emphasize her point.

"While it is nice to know that Skeeter has moved on from smearing people's reputations, she's set her sights on ruining the image of our department as a whole. We're laughing stocks! And don't forget the owls currently flocking the Ministry demanding an explanation or the Howlers from our superiors. The Minister of Magic has demanded a retraction and an apology but the beans have already been spilled." Montague sat down with a groan, his head in his hands.

"Greyback will be howling in laughter at the publicity these assaults have received. He _doesn't _kill outside of the moon's influence just because he can. He's toying with us — right now, it's just the calm before the storm," Hermione suggested solemnly. She had a sneaking suspicion that her hunch was right, and for the first time in a long time, she prayed that she wasn't.

* * *

Review? :D


	4. CH4

**Title**: The Blood On Our Hands

**Summary**: When the Head of the Department of Mysteries disappears, Harry Potter is bent on bringing her back. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger adds fuel to the fire only to unravel a cold-blooded conspiracy that makes an attempt on her life.

**A/N**: Just letting anyone reading this know that I haven't lost interest in this story.

* * *

******The ∙ Blood ∙ On ∙ Our ∙ Hands**

_"To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal." _

**―Malcom X**

* * *

**T**he Auror Division wasn't even close to wrapping up the Lovegood case.

"We've reviewed this case over twenty times already," Harry paced around the room. "What is it that we're missing? I don't get it."

Harry and Draco were closeted in Harry's office late in the evening, frustrated by their lack of progress. The two had agreed to meet up at Harry's place because Malfoy Manor was undergoing some refurbishing that week.

"We have gone over all the details of that night many times. Maybe there's something we're overlooking," Malfoy told him absently, his mind processing the information about the case. "Maybe we're just not looking in the right places, that's all.

"But, what could we be missing?" Harry asked, creasing his brows in thought. "We've sifted through all the information we've received with a fine-toothed comb. We've tried to picture scenarios and possible motives, most which didn't seem plausible."

Draco leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. "I think we should be thinking _how Lovegood was kidnapped _instead of _why _and _who_."

Harry looked at Malfoy as if he was a complete idiot. "Well that's simple. Luna was _taken_ because the kidnappers wanted to get to me—"

Malfoy snorted. "Get your head out of your arse, Potter, because everything isn't about you. What if it isn't about you at all? Huh? Did you ever stop to consider that?"

"Well . . . no," Harry managed to stammer out. "I didn't think it was a coincidence."

"That's because you _don't _think! You _never _use your head!" Malfoy shouted.

Harry flushed with embarrassment. What if Malfoy had a point? What if he was just blaming himself because it was the easier route to take? Being the Saviour of the Wizarding World wasn't always great when you had a hero complex the size of Russia.

"I was thinking maybe Lovegood was kidnapped for reasons beyond that. Last night, I was toying with the theory that maybe the Lovegoods could have a longstanding feud with one of the many Wizarding Pureblood families. Maybe the family they are at odds with decided to get back at the Lovegoods by kidnapping that old crackpot's daughter?" Malfoy suggested.

Hm. Malfoy had a good point but his constant condescension annoyed Harry to no end. "Why must you insult the Lovegoods? Can't you utter a sentence without badmouthing someone?"

"It's not my fault when the Lovegoods make it so easy to pick on them," Malfoy said defensively.

Harry gave a reproachful shake of his head. "This is precisely why Hermione hates you so much. Just when you stop being such an unbearable prick, you start being the insufferable bastard that I despised so much during our Hogwarts schooldays."

"Oh, stop you or your sentimentality might rub off on me," Malfoy said with faux coyness. "_Right._ I think it's high time we've visited Xenophilius Lovegood."

"I think I should be doing it alone," Harry started. "Mr. Lovegood might react in a negative way if he sees a former Death Eaters standing on his threshold."

"Fine," Malfoy spat out. "It's not like I was looking forward to the visit, either."

Harry shrugged. It was for the best. Malfoy had an uncanny ability to bring out the worst in people, Hermione being a prime example. He would undoubtedly say something snarky that would rile Xenophilius Lovegood up — he didn't think he wanted to see the eccentric man lash out at them. After all, his daughter had been taken away from him, which might have led to him to become mentally unsound.

Harry froze as he had a blazing epiphany.

"Malfoy . . ." he began with a tentative whisper. "What if . . . what if we have a traitor in our midst?" He had been suddenly reminded of Peter Pettigrew, who had sold out his parents to Lord Voldemort.

"The idea certainly doesn't seem impossible. In fact, it might be the brightest thing you've said all day," Malfoy said amusedly.

"Ha, fucking, ha, Malfoy. Shall we get back to the speculation of the possible mole in our office or do you have any schoolboy witticisms to get off your chest?" Harry said scathingly.

Draco rubbed his chin, as if contemplating Harry's question. "No. I'm done with my schoolboy witticisms," He said with a sniff.

Harry rolled his eyes at the pettiness of it all and got on, "This person is probably someone in the department gone rogue. This traitor, whoever it is, has had years to perfect my mannerisms. Otherwise, how could the imposter manage to lure Luna to the pub so easily?"

"I've always thought she was a bit touched in the head, even for a Ravenclaw," Malfoy remarked offhandedly.

"Malfoy, just because you're daft doesn't mean the rest of the world is," Harry snapped. "When Luna was in the Leaky Cauldron with the imposter, they were seen chatting for what seemed to be an hour. An hour! How did they manage that without giving themselves away? They would have to know a lot about me and Luna and our equation with each other to have successfully pulled this off. The informant must be somebody who knows us and our habits well. "

"Which narrows down the list of suspects to pretty much everyone in the Magical World," Malfoy said dryly. "Just how many people have you grown close to in the past several years? Knowing you, I'm willing to bet pretty much everyone."

"That's not true. I'm not friends with Zacharias Smith," Harry argued.

"That's because everyone in the department hates Smith," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

Malfoy grabbed a piece of parchment, dipping the feathered quill he found inside Harry's desk into the inkpot and began listing out all the potential suspects. "To make you feel better, I'm even including Tonks, and she's my favourite cousin."

Ron Apparated inside Harry's flat at that precise moment.

"Potter, can you tell your pet Weasel to go away? We are in an important meeting, after all," Malfoy snarked without looking up from the parchment.

"Manners, Malfoy. You're talking about my best friend!" Harry protested at the audacity of his partner. "And, if it hasn't escaped your notice, Ron happens to be an Auror as well!"

Finally, Malfoy looked up from the list sporting an expression of calm detachment that aggravated Harry and Ron. "Oh? Weaselbee will only be a hindrance to this case, and the idea that he is still an Auror is quite laughable. I highly doubt he can contribute anything relevant to this discussion."

Harry suppressed the urge to hex Malfoy in his nether regions.

"Speak for yourself, Malfoy," Ron spat out. "You've been given this case two weeks ago and you still haven't found any closure. Harry is the only one taking this case seriously, considering the fact that he brought a piece of evidence back with him —"

"SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU!" Harry snapped, his left eyelid twitching. "You two sound like an old married couple. It's annoying how you to jump each other's throats. "

"Sorry mate, I don't swing that way," Ron spluttered, the blush that was slowly creeping up his neck almost matched the shade of his hair.

"Can we get down to business?" Malfoy asked in a bored tone, and continued without waiting for their response. "Good. In the past five years, the Auror Division had recruited roughly around fifty five Aurors . . ."

**F**or the rest of the week, Harry was so wholly engrossed in the endless paperwork that seemed to have piled up on his desk overnight that he forgot about Ginny.

"You've got to _relax_," she told him. Instead of holding it against him, she seemed concerned for his wellbeing. It was as if the fact that he had been a neglectful boyfriend all week hadn't registered at all.

While he appreciated it under normal circumstances, he found it downright bothersome at the moment. He didn't need her mollycoddling him like he was a child that needed to be placated. He wasn't in the mood to be fussed over when he was preoccupied with finding Luna. He didn't even know if she was alive!

"That's the problem, Ginny! I _can't _relax . . . Luna she _needs _me," he said agitated, a feeling of helplessness crept in his tone. "I can't let her down! Not now, not ever!"

He missed the wounded look that flashed across her freckled countenance.

"I'm sure Luna wouldn't begrudge you a moment of relaxation," Ginny responded calmly. "In fact, it might help her more if you did take a break from it. That might give fresh perspective."

"Ginny, don't do this," Harry said rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Do what?" she asked eyes narrowed.

He sensed this was going to turn into an argument.

"I don't know," Harry said with an absentminded look and glanced at the Muggle watch Mr. Weasley gave him on his eighteenth birthday.

He cursed when he saw the time. "Blast, I had agreed to meet with Hermione at seven and I'm already late!"

"You don't have time for me but we wouldn't want to keep Hermione waiting, now would we?" Ginny spat out in a sickly sweet tone.

He slipped on a jacket, pecked her cheek and slipped in a quick '_I love you!_', before he left hurriedly. It didn't change the irritated expression on her face and he sighed. He hated how he was treating Ginny. She deserved someone better than him, someone that could give her the time of day. As he Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, he dwelled on Ginny's expression. She wasn't the same happy girl she once was. It was as if their relationship had sucked all that lightness out of her.

"Life hasn't been treating you well lately, has it?" Hermione said after taking a long look at him.

"I hate how everyone is so worried about me when I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." Everyone had taken to walking on eggshells around him lately. Hermione didn't have to deal with the pitying glances and whispers in the hallways at their workplace even though she was one of Luna's closest friends.

"Nobody said you can't take care of yourself, Harry. We just think you are being too hard on yourself," Hermione said concerned. "I hate seeing you like this, and I hate how some nutter is toying with us as they hold Luna in captivity. I truly thought things would die down sometime after the War, but a part of me knows that it's just wishful thinking."

"But, it _has_ died down for the most part. This person is taking advantage of the fact that Death Eater attacks have become more and more infrequent to catch us off guard."

"Do you think the recent assault on that Muggle neighbourhood is connecting to Luna's kidnapping somehow?" Hermione pondered.

"Probably not," Harry furrowed his brow in thought. What was Hermione getting at? But, there was the slightest possibility that she could be right. He was going to have to trust her instincts on this one. "It's just Greyback up to his old tricks again."

"By why does he have to do it now? It doesn't make sense," Hermione said, tugging at her ear in thought. "If there is one person in the world who can understand Greyback, it's got to be Remus Lupin. Maybe you can ask him?" she offered.

"You're right! Why didn't I think of that? Thanks, Hermione," Harry gratefully said. As usual, Hermione was thinking ahead.

Remus had managed to procure a job after the war. It did help that he was hailed a hero and received an Order of Merlin first class. Harry hadn't seen his old professor for weeks because of the recent events and the fact that Harry's own job was extremely time consuming. There were times when he went days without seeing Hermione and Ron, and Ginny felt his absence most of all.

"I think I'll do that now . . . do you want to come along, then?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I have other things to take care of, Harry. Maybe . . ." She was cut off mid-sentence when a familiar snarky voice called out, "Afraid he'll catch on to your secret feelings for him, Granger? Oops! Sorry! I seem to have let the cat out of the bag."

_No, this couldn't be happening_, Harry thought. He turned around to find a smirking Malfoy towering over him.

Whenever Malfoy and Hermione were within talking distance with each other, he usually found himself in the middle of it.

He could see the battle glint in Hermione's eye that indicated she was preparing to use the barrage of insults that lay waiting at the tip of her tongue.

He needed to stop this from happening.

"I was thinking of visiting Professor Lupin to see if he could help us understand why Greyback reappeared after all those years," Harry started. "I think it might be connected to the Lovegood case, what do you think?"

"I think we should take this somewhere else," Malfoy began coolly. "After all, if _this _is connected to the Lovegood case, I don't want to leak confidential information —"

"We were discussing about a _theory_, Malfoy. I don't think that constitutes as breaking the rules!" Hermione reminded him sharply. "Besides, we weren't even talking about Luna."

"It doesn't even deserve to be called a theory, Granger!" Malfoy gave her a nasty sneer. "A baseless claim is more like it."

"You seem awfully simpleminded for an Auror," Hermione shot back.

At this rate, they weren't going to get anything done.

* * *

As always, concrit is appreciated. :3


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